Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Surviving the Loneliest Roads, Violent Strangers, and a Deadly Obsession Unfolded PART1 #19

Episode Date: November 9, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #truecrime #roadhorrorstories #deadlyobsession #violentstrangers #survivalstory  Surviving the Loneliest Roads Part 1 recounts a harrowing true story of danger on isolated roads, encounters with violent strangers, and a deadly obsession that unfolds unexpectedly. This opening chapter sets the stage for a tense, suspenseful journey where the protagonist must navigate fear, deception, and life-threatening situations while trying to survive against all odds.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truecrime, roadhorrorstories, deadlyobsession, violentstrangers, survivalstory, shockingencounters, dangerontheroad, realcrime, crimeinvestigation, realhorrorstories, suspense, lifeordeath, thriller, tensejourney

The Highway Trap, A Night I'll Never Forget. It was 2009, and I was 22 years old, barely out of college, full of plans and stubborn confidence. At that age, you kind of feel invincible, like nothing really bad could happen to you because bad things only happen to other people. I was leaving my home state of California, heading east to start a corrections job. It felt like a big move, the kind of adult step you tell yourself proves you've got your life. together. The road I was taking was U.S. Route 50 in Nevada, known to a lot of people as the loneliest highway in America. And trust me, that name is no exaggeration. Driving down that stretch at night feels like you're the last human being alive on the planet. No traffic. No

gas stations. No lights except your own headlights. Just endless desert and silence so thick it presses against your car windows. It was about three in the morning on a Sunday. Not the best time to be out there, but my timing didn't leave me much choice. The highway lived up to its reputation, I hadn't seen another car in maybe 30, 40 minutes. It was just me, the road, and the creeping drowsiness that comes from staring at asphalt that never seems to end. I wasn't tired enough to pull over and crash for a nap, but I was definitely reaching

that dangerous state where your eyelids start to feel heavy, and you start blinking longer than you should. Anyone who's ever driven alone at night knows that feeling, the tug of sleep fighting with the need to keep moving. And that's when I saw it. A car on the shoulder. Hazards flashing weakly. A figure next to it. It startled me because it had been so long since I'd seen another soul out there. I slowed down, instinctively cautious. The figure resolved into a woman standing beside the car. She looked small, maybe five-two at most, and the car itself looked beat up, the kind of vehicle that might realistically break down in the middle of nowhere. I rolled my window down just a sliver, not enough for anyone to reach in, but enough to talk.

Something about her felt off. I couldn't tell what exactly. her posture the way she didn't wave me down like people usually do when they're desperate for help my subconscious was practically screaming at me that something was wrong but in the moment I brushed it off I asked her if she needed me to call a tow truck

maybe AAA that's when everything shifted instead of answering she tried to open my door just like that no hesitation No, please help. Just straight for the handle.

I pulled the door tighter and told her, as calmly as I could, that I didn't feel comfortable letting her in, but I'd wait with her until help arrived. Her face changed instantly, her expression twisted into pure rage, like I'd just insulted her. She snapped, you're a big guy. What am I going to do to you? And here's where I royally screwed up. I can see it clearly now, years later, but in that moment, I let my guard down. I looked at her, tiny, maybe 90 pounds soaking wet, and compared that to myself, over six feet

tall and easily more than a hundred pounds heavier. I convinced myself she couldn't possibly be a threat. So I unlocked the door. She slipped into the passenger seat like she had been waiting for me to cave. I asked her who I should call, still trying to play the role of the helpful stranger. Back then, I had one of those old Blackberry slide phones. While I fumbled with it, she said she didn't want me to call anyone, she just wanted a ride to the next town. My gut twisted.

I knew I'd made a mistake. She was avoiding eye contact, rummaging around in her oversized purse, and acting cagey whenever I mentioned getting outside. help. Every instinct was telling me something wasn't right, but I was so focused on trying to fix the situation that I missed the bigger picture. There was a man. I didn't notice him at first. He must have been hiding behind her car, maybe crouched low, waiting. It wasn't until he was practically at my driver's side door that I saw him in my rearview mirror. That's when panic slammed into me. I didn't think. I didn't weigh options. Instinct took over. Fight or flight, and I chose flight. I threw the car into drive and floored it just as the guy reached for my

door handle. The tires screamed against the asphalt, and I shot forward into the black emptiness of the highway. That's when I heard the sound. A sharp metallic ping, followed by glass exploding. My rearview mirror shattered, and I realized, this maniac was shooting at me. Adrenaline surged so hard I could barely breathe. My speedometer climbed past 80, then 90. My hands were locked onto the wheel, knuckles white, eyes wide, heart hammering in my chest. I was in pure survival mode. Beside me, the woman started freaking out. Her plan, whatever twisted scam this was, had clearly failed. She started screaming at me, hitting my arm and shoulder, demanding I stop and let her out. Her voice was shrill, panicked, almost feral. I kept driving,

focused on putting as much distance between myself and the shooter as possible. Finally, when I felt I had a big enough gap, I pulled over, slammed the brakes, and shouted at her to get the hell out of my car. She hesitated, reaching into that massive purse of hers. That was it for me. My nerves were shredded. I leaned across, flung the door open, and shoved her out onto the side of the road. I even tried to grab her purse in case she had a weapon, but she clutched it tight.

The struggle spilled half the contents across my passenger seat, crumpled napkins, tubes of lipstick, and drug paraphernalia. I didn't wait. I gunned the car forward, the passenger door still wide open, and didn't close it until I was sure she was just a shrinking shape in the distance behind me. When I finally slammed the door shut and locked it, I was shaking so hard I could barely keep the car steady. I clenched the wheel and drove like I was on autopilot, adrenaline carrying me through the rest of the night. Hours later, just as the sun started creeping up, I pulled into a Denny's parking lot. That's when the weight of everything hit me all at once. The near miss.

The gunshot. The fact that I'd been seconds away from possibly dying in the middle of nowhere. I glanced at the passenger seat and saw the junk sheet spilled. Nasty napkins, cheap lipstick tubes, and unmistakable drug gear. For a second, I thought about calling the cops or finding a highway patrol car. But then I imagined how it would look, me, alone, with drug paraphernalia in my car. At the time, I dreamed of becoming a cop myself, and I knew that one wrong misunderstanding could kill that dream. So I tossed everything into a trash bag, dumped it, and tried to convince myself to just move on.

At the Denny's, across the street, I noticed a police cruiser at a gas station. Against my better judgment, I went over and told the officer what had happened. He didn't look too impressed. In fact, he pretty much chewed me out for stopping in the first place and letting her in. Still, he said he'd look into it. Whether he ever did or not, I'll never know. I never replaced that shattered rearview mirror. Ended up selling the car not long after, since where I live now doesn't require one.

But to this day, every time I see a car stranded on some lonely stretch of highway, my stomach knots up. Maybe it's genuine. Maybe it's another trap. I'll never know, because I won't stop again. I'm a woman now, well into adulthood, but this memory comes from over 25 years ago, back when I was just 16. It feels like another lifetime. At that age, the world felt huge and open, and I was just starting to get. get a taste of freedom. My mom and stepdad and I lived in a remote area about 70 miles west of

Las Vegas, Nevada. If you've ever been out that way, you know what I mean when I say it's isolated. Think wide stretches of desert, mountains that feel painted on the horizon, and not much in between. That night was special because it was the first time I was allowed to drive myself into town to hang out with my friends. To me, that felt like winning the lottery. The car wasn't anything fancy, a beat-up 71 Chevy pickup that smelled faintly of oil and old upholstery, but it was mine to drive, and that was enough to make me feel like the queen of the road. I had a curfew, 10 p.m. Sharp. And my mom, being cautious as moms are, gave me strict instructions. If I was running late for any reason, I had to find a payphone and call. This was before cell phones were everywhere, so pay.

were the lifeline. Break the rule, and I'd lose the privilege of driving solo again. That was motivation enough for me to watch the clock like a hawk. The night with my friends was good. We watched movies, ate junk food, laughed until our sides hurt. All the ordinary teenage stuff that felt extraordinary just because it was paired with freedom. But eventually, time slipped away, and I knew I had to hit the road. I climbed into my Chevy, started the rattling engine, and pointed the headlights toward home. If you've never driven through the desert at night, let me paint the picture. Imagine pure blackness swallowing everything outside the reach of your headlights. No street lights. No houses. Just two narrow beams of light cutting into the

endless dark. The silence is so deep that even the hum of your own engine sounds too loud, like you're breaking some unwritten rule by disturbing it. I passed the first two stop signs on my route, and that's when I saw it. An old sedan, sitting in the middle of the road with its hazard lights flashing. It looked like one of those older models that were still common out there, boxy and faded, the kind of car you'd expect to see sputtering along until it finally gave up. At first, nothing about it felt threatening. Out in the Mojave Desert, it wasn't unusual to see stranded motorists. Cars overheated, tires blue, engines quit.

And out there, being stuck without help could turn into a life-or-death situation fast. People underestimated the desert all the time, forgetting it was an unforgiving place where dehydration and heatstroke could take you down quicker than you'd think. So I slowed down. The sedan sat still, its blinkers clicking in that slow, steady rhythm. As I pulled up behind it, a man in his 30s or 40s stepped out from the driver's side. He started walking toward me. At that age, I didn't have the instinctive alarm bells I've since developed.

I wasn't jaded yet, wasn't trained by life to see danger in shadows. He didn't look particularly threatening, average build, plain clothes, just a guy who whose car broke down. Still, something about the way he walked toward me was, deliberate. Like he wasn't just grateful someone had stopped, but expectant. I kept my doors locked and cracked my window just slightly, enough to talk through but not enough for anyone to reach inside. My heart was thudding harder than it should have for a normal situation.

He reached my truck, leaned a little too close, and smiled. not the friendly relieved smile you'd expect this one felt wrong forced like he was trying to put me at ease but hadn't practiced enough in the mirror truck trouble he said motioning vaguely toward the sedan battery's dead could you give me a quick ride to the next town his words were polite but something about the way he said them set off a warning inside me my mom's voice echoed in my head, if you're late, call. Don't take risks. Don't let strangers in the car. I hesitated. And in that hesitation, my headlights caught something that made my stomach drop. Movement. There was someone else in the car, a shadow shifting in the passenger seat of the sedan. To be continued.